Misspelled

by Julie E. Czerneda

  I live in Santa Cruz, on the west side, far enough from downtown where the tourists usually congregated. I like the weather; fog suits me, and the city has a constant population of hippies. I get a few Silicon Valley geeks too. I’ve no shortage of clients. Most of them want the usual, astrological readings and divinations. They use people like me instead of the classic methods: tarot and astrology. For the locals it’s modern chic while still being agreeable with their more pagan side. The high-tech geeks like the technology aspect of it. The Internet is perfect for that sort of divination, the whole random numbers thing and all.

  ‘‘Mom doesn’t know I’m here. Hey, this room’s crammed,’’ Bernie called from down the hall.

  ‘‘Take it or leave it,’’ I called back from the kitchen. I took a long drink of the cold beer, hoping for the latter. The spare room was where I threw everything I didn’t have a place for, including my little sister. ‘‘And call Mom.’’

  After a few minutes she came and sat at the bar, sans suitcase.

  ‘‘Can I have one?’’ She gestured to the beer in my hand. I shrugged and motioned to the fridge. She could get it herself.

  ‘‘Did you call Mom?’’ I headed back to the computer. I had a new client, which meant a new spell to be written.

  ‘‘Yeah.’’ She flipped the bottle cap onto the counter. ‘‘She’ll be by tomorrow after work.’’

  ‘‘Great.’’ I put my headphones back on and began working. After a moment there was a tap on my shoulder.

  ‘‘What?’’ I growled and pulled the headphones down around my neck. I lived alone for a reason.

  ‘‘What’s on for tonight?’’

  ‘‘Nothing. I’m working.’’ I pulled the headphones back up and continued working on the new spell disk. After a few minutes I could hear the TV.

  It was Sunday, and the portents were good that night; the spell was coming along nicely. When I finished it around 1 AM, Bernie was still watching TV. I locked up my disks as usual. These weren’t the kinds of things you wanted loose on the world. I was halfway down the hall when she called out.

  ‘‘Can I go online?’’

  "No." I headed back for the family room. "Don’t touch my computer."

  Unlike my parents, Bernie knew what I did for a living. I’m not sure she understood what I did, but anything crossing magic with technology was apparently cool. My parents thought I designed Web pages. They thought everyone working ‘‘in computers’’ designed Web pages. It was best to leave them with that impression.

  ‘‘I mean it, Bernie.’’

  ‘‘Yeah, yeah.’’ She waved me off and went back to watching TV.

  Monday came quietly. Bernie had eventually made it to bed since the couch was unoccupied. With a cup of coffee in hand, I sat at the computer for some quick clean up work on the new spell.

  ‘‘What’s this?’’ I stood up again. Bernie had left her mp3 player in my chair. I tossed it across the room, mildly aiming for the couch. I sat back down and started to check the spell. I planned on testing it that day since the portents were once again favorable, so when I finished the cleaning up, I burned the disk. The sooner I had the spell working the sooner I got paid.

  ‘‘So what are you doing?’’ Bernie appeared, leaning over my shoulder.

  ‘‘Nothing that would interest you.’’

  ‘‘I want to see.’’

  ‘‘No.’’

  She sat on the desk. ‘‘Come on. I’m bored.’’

  ‘‘By your choice not mine. Go sit down.’’ I pushed her off the desk and pointed behind me to the couch. I lit the candles surrounding my desk. These were critical. Whatever power you were able to glean from the Aether would soon dissipate without the protective circle. This was a textbook example of where magic and technology came together, if there were textbooks for such things.

  Having completed the circle, I put in Tim’s spell disk. Tim’s my imp. I always call him out when I run spells. You just can’t put a price on experience.

  Next to me sits a sphere. The ignorant might call it a crystal ball. It isn’t. It’s a special computer monitor. I use it to draw power from the Aether, to run the spells I write. Without the Aether it’d be just another program disk.

  Once I had the spell running I waited for the flash of light that brought Tim into my office.

  ‘‘Hello,’’ I said when I saw it, without looking up. ‘‘Ready to work?’’

  ‘‘Of course,’’ he replied calmly. Tim was about six inches tall with oil slick colored skin. He also had a four inch pointed tail. His ears droop and his nose is nonexistent. He used to smell until I realized I could tell him to stop.

  ‘‘Wow! You’ve got a—a—what are those things called?’’ Bernie stood up from the couch.

  ‘‘Imp,’’ Tim replied. He turned his attention back to me.

  ‘‘Sweet!’’ She came closer.

  ‘‘New spell’s ready, Tim.’’ I motioned to the sphere.

  My sister leaned on my chair. ‘‘Tim? You named your imp Tim?’’

  ‘‘Drop it, Bernie.’’ I tried to sound threatening.

  ‘‘But wasn’t Tim that guy you liked your senior year in high school?’’

  ‘‘Drop it.’’ I’d regretted using that name. The high school infatuation didn’t last long. Imps, on the other hand, do. The upside to naming an imp is that once you do, you have some measure of control over it. The downside of naming an imp is that once you do, you can’t change it. Once the authoring protocol has been set, it’s nearly impossible for it to be rewritten, not without major magic.

  I loaded up the new disk and entered the parameter codes.

  ‘‘What’s that?’’ Bernie was looking over my shoulder.

  ‘‘Sit down and stay out of the circle.’’

  ‘‘Can’t you even tell me what it does?’’ She came around to the side of my chair.

  ‘‘I’m testing a new spell.’’ I finished with the parameters and checked the candles again. ‘‘Tim, get ready.’’

  Tim jumped to my shoulder and closed his eyes.

  ‘‘So what’s this supposed to do?’’ Bernie called from the couch.

  ‘‘Locate a particular djinn.’’

  ‘‘Why? Wait—a what?’’

  ‘‘Demon.’’ I didn’t elaborate, client confidentiality. One last check of the circle, and I sent the go code. I watched the spell’s processes on my monitor while Tim watched the sphere.

  ‘‘I see the Aether.’’ He whispered. He always whispered when the Aether was opened. To me it looked like code on the monitor; to Tim it looked like home.

  ‘‘Keep it there, Tim.’’ I didn’t need to watch him to know he was making the signs that would help control the opening. Like I said, you can’t beat experience. As I watched my screen, I felt a rush of cold air. ‘‘We’re losing it!’’

  ‘‘Working on it,’’ he whispered.

  The cold air became a push. Something was entering the circle. ‘‘Bernie! Sit!’’ Whether she didn’t listen or I was too late, I don’t know. The telltale flash of the spell happened.

  I spun around in my chair and stood up, effectively flinging Tim off my shoulder. ‘‘Where the hell is she?’’

  ‘‘Well, by your tone I’d say you are referring to the rhetorical ‘Hell.’ ’’ Tim got up from the floor, straightening his tail. ‘‘When there’s a good probability that your sister is in the actual ‘Hel.’ ’’

  Tim was referring to his place of origin. If the Aether is the universe, then Hel is one of the planets. Cybermancers and Zero Point Energy enthusiasts use the term Aether to describe the source of power. Everyone else unwittingly knows it as the Internet.

  ‘‘How did that happen?’’ I growled as I dropped back down into my seat. I began a tracer on the spell. It got lost a few jumps in. I said as much.

  ‘‘It did if she went over.’’ Tim climbed up on my shoulder. ‘‘Your data tracers don’t work over there. And I suspect some sort of corruption of the sp
ell disk. How many loci are on the spell?’’ my imp asked.

  ‘‘The default to here and the Aether.’’ By their very nature, loci can’t be corrupted. They either work or they don’t.

  ‘‘Well, since she’s not here—’’ he looked around the room ‘‘—I’d say she’s crossed over into Hel.’’ He jumped on the desk. ‘‘I suggest a scan. To find out the cause at least.’’

  I started a full system scan and several small files were flagged, files that weren’t mine. They were mostly music files.

  ‘‘What the hell are these?’’ I held up my hand, effectively stopping Tim from starting the ‘‘one l or two’’ argument again. ‘‘She downloaded music.’’ The mp3 player on my seat made sense now.

  Tim leaned over my shoulder to read the screen.

  ‘‘Bernie must have gone online and downloaded a bunch of crap last night. Damn it. I knew I should have put in the lock code.’’ I had never needed to lock my computer—as I said, I live alone. As the scan finished up, I saw she had indeed downloaded crap. She’d let in a worm and it had gone straight for the disk-burning program. Tim was right. If my sister downloaded the virus last night, the disk I burned this morning had to be corrupted.

  I massaged my temples. ‘‘Shit!’’

  ‘‘Well, we can’t find her with this thing. We need a clean computer.’’ Easier said than done. Cybermancers aren’t a close-knit group; that’s the nature of programmers. We tend to be loners until we’re forced to be team players.

  There was only one person I felt confident would help me. ‘‘Pack up the disks. We’re going to see Iraina.’’

  ‘‘Of course we are. Sri Lanka is lovely this time of year.’’

  Tim’s sarcasm was usually wasted on me but August was a nice time. No monsoons. The sphere went into a soft-sided bag. I gathered up the disks I’d need and put them into a smaller pouch along with a new box of Rick’s Razzmatazz Tea. It’s always nice to bring a gift when asking a favor of a witch. Rick’s was Iraina’s favorite.

  Now one might wonder how a twenty-four-year-old computer professional and her otherworldly imp might get to Sri Lanka from a seaside town in California on absolutely no notice. Well, I get there the way I get most places a cab can’t take me: the telephone booth at the south end of Bay Street.

  The streetlight over the booth was out. Neither it nor the phone booth had ever worked as far as I knew. Someone, long ago, had placed a handwritten ‘‘out of order’’ sign on the glass booth. I can only assume they also placed a warding spell on the booth since it was obvious that no one ever came to check on it.

  With Tim on my shoulder, hidden by my waist-length hair, I stepped into the booth and traced the spell glyph that had been graffitied onto the glass. Some types of magic are easy to use even if you have no idea how they work. Tim and I stepped out onto a dark street in downtown Galle. It was sometime in the early morning hours if I remembered the time change. There was no one on the narrow lane and no streetlights to announce our arrival even if there had been. As I stepped away from the box, I felt the steady cooling sea breeze.

  Iraina’s apartment was the fifth house down the street. I jogged the short distance to her place. If anyone could help it was her. And would. Iraina was overly friendly by cybermancer standards. Being a dualist had its advantages. There weren’t many witches who also practiced cybermancy.

  It isn’t hard to find Iraina’s apartment. Usually there is a distinctive odor. Classic magic always seems to smell.

  ‘‘Epiphany! Darling!’’ Iraina opened the door before I’d knocked. She’s the only one who calls me by my given name. Even my parents don’t call me Epiphany. What she was doing up at this hour I didn’t ask. She always seemed to be awake, no matter what time of day I appeared.

  ‘‘Iraina.’’ I handed her the box of tea as she stepped aside to let me in. She looked the same as she did when I first met her about ten years ago, fortyish. I had a feeling that she dabbled in life extension, but I never had the nerve to ask her. It’s a touchy subject among witches.

  ‘‘Oh, you’ve brought Tim!’’ She reached out to pat his cheek. Tim smiled. ‘‘And a box of Rick’s. You need help with something, my dear.’’ She waggled a finger at me and smiled. I tried to smile back.

  As I walked into what passed for her living room I noticed the smell. It wasn’t one of the usual ones.

  ‘‘What is that?’’ I said between sniffs.

  ‘‘Ah, yes!’’ She slipped the tea into her apron pocket and went over to the large cauldron sitting in the middle of the hardwood floor. It took up the entire middle of the small room. ‘‘Divination, dear.’’ She stirred the cauldron.

  ‘‘What sort of divination?’’ I asked, peering carefully into the depths of the giant pot.

  ‘‘Tiromancy, Epiphany, darling.’’ She stirred it again then looked at me, noticing my utter lack of understanding. ‘‘Cheese curds.’’

  I just stared at her.

  ‘‘New client.’’ She smiled.

  ‘‘Does it actually work?’’ Tim asked from my shoulder.

  ‘‘I don’t see why not,’’ she answered with a shrug.

  Iraina was interesting. Along with cybermancy, she was also what you’d call a classic witch; potions, spells, cauldrons, cupboards filled with all manner of dried and powdered creatures and now, apparently, cheese. Now me, I have trouble with instant rice, and I prefer to do my magic online. I like the logic of the Aether. It also keeps strange dried things out of my cupboards.

  ‘‘Iraina, I need your help.’’ I wasn’t sure she was listening.

  ‘‘With what?’’ She reached in with her hand, grabbed a handful of curd and squeezed.

  ‘‘I’ve lost Bernie.’’

  ‘‘Bernadette? Where, dear?’’ She let the liquid run through her fingers.

  ‘‘Into the Aether. I think.’’ I kept my eyes on the curds.

  Iraina stopped midsqueeze and looked at me. ‘‘What did you say?’’

  ‘‘In the, uh, Aether.’’ I glanced up to meet her gaze briefly.

  ‘‘How in Astaroth’s name did that happen?’’ She dropped the curd back into the cauldron and wiped her hands on her apron. The demon Astaroth is said to teach the mathematical sciences to his followers. Because of this, cybermancy is usually connected to him.

  ‘‘Corrupted disk. I have to find her.’’ I took a deep breath and let it out.

  ‘‘I should say so, dear. She is your sister.’’

  ‘‘Yeah, there’s that, too.’’ I groaned. In truth, my mother was my more immediate concern.

  ‘‘You say the spell disk was corrupted?’’ Iraina wiped her hands on her apron.

  ‘‘Yes. Bernie let in a worm. It got to the disk burning program.’’

  ‘‘Oh, dear. That’s like a witch letting her newt tongues go bad. It just isn’t done, dear.’’ Iraina’s lecturing tone did little for my temper. ‘‘I would think you’d have an intrusion detector installed, dear.’’

  ‘‘I did. The worm must have spell coding in it.’’

  ‘‘Any time a spell is altered incorrectly strange things can happen, dear.’’

  ‘‘I know, I know,’’ I growled as I dropped into an overstuffed chair.

  ‘‘If I may make a suggestion, Epiphany. Retrieving your sister should be done as soon as possible. As you know, viruses spread, corruptions spread. It’s like when you add too much salamander lard—things just spin out of control.’’

  ‘‘Salamander what?’’

  ‘‘It doesn’t matter dear. What does matter is that you go get Bernadette. Now.’’ She walked over to a scarf-covered table. She pulled off the scarves, revealing her computer.

  ‘‘How do I do that? Can I send Tim?’’ I fought my way out of the chair.

  ‘‘No, I’m afraid not. Your authoring protocol becomes null once he returns to Hel. You’d have no control over him. You’ll have to go over with him. Your proximity will keep him under the control of the summoning, and h
is spell disk will be able to bring you all back.’’

  ‘‘You want me to go over to the Aether?’’

  ‘‘Hel, actually. There’s nothing really in the Aether, dear.’’

  I knew that. Iraina was a stickler for accuracy sometimes. She motioned for me to come sit at the desk. I did. I unpacked my disks. Iraina had nearly the same setup as I did, though her sphere was a newer model. I made a mental note to upgrade after this was all over.

  ‘‘When I asked you once, I thought you said I couldn’t go over.’’ This I directed at Tim.

  ‘‘I said you shouldn’t go over. But since your sister did, the point is moot.’’ He smiled. Somehow I got the feeling he was enjoying this.

  ‘‘While you reprogram the parameters for three entities, I’ll go find you some candles for the circle.’’

  It became obvious I wasn’t going to be offered another option. My sister would pay dearly for this. I didn’t know how yet. I left that detail for later. I did as Iraina said and reprogrammed Tim’s spell disk. The idea was simple enough; you just needed multiple placeholders. A little coding took care of that. The return locus was automatic. The address of the computer of origin was the locus by default for the reintegration point. Nice comforting logic. I knew it wouldn’t last.

  Iraina returned with a basket of mismatched candles. ‘‘Would you like black or white, dear?’’

  ‘‘Black.’’ It fit my mood.

  She dumped them onto the floor and Tim began setting them up around the desk.

  ‘‘Here you go.’’ She pulled a small wreath from her apron pocket and set it on Tim’s head. She pulled a slightly larger one out next and placed it on my head.

  ‘‘And this is?’’ I felt the wreath.

  ‘‘Blue spruce, dear. Protection against enemies.’’

  I nodded politely and wondered how much stuff she could fit in those oversized pockets. Returning to the immediate issue, I adjusted my sphere, moving several suspicious wax-topped bottles out of the way. When I glanced back, Iraina was lighting the candles. I completed a system scan on the computer, declaring it clean. I loaded my general spells subprograms disk and waited. Once the download was complete, in went the corrupted spell disk. I ran the primary program to gain access to the Aether.